


Like a light came on

by strawberriesandtophats



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Family Bonding, Found Family, Gen, Raspberry tobacco, Snufkin has 24 children and he loves them all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 13:51:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18692809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats
Summary: Snufkin visits his kids and everyone enjoys themselves.In which Snufkin teaches his children about swimming, constellations and how to escape jail by digging yourself out using a can opener.





	Like a light came on

**Author's Note:**

> Based on reading Moominsummer Madness/Örlaganóttin and inspired by the wonderful artwork of avril-circus at tumblr, specifically the 'miserable dad needs help - part 2' one.

Snufkin arrived at the Fillyjonk’s house just before sunset with a barrel full of bean stew and a bag full of new clothes. He’d embroidered leaves and flowers at the hems of dresses and around the collars. Moominmama had knitted a mountain of socks and mittens and scarfs. Enough Sundays had passed for him to run out of raspberry tobacco, which meant that it was time to visit his kids again.

So, he took them swimming in the nearest pond after stashing the barrel and bag away at the Fillyjonk’s house. He stayed in the water, teaching them how to do a variation of the breaststroke as they dogpaddled around him and splashed water all over the place.

They stayed long enough for the kids to have fun but not to get too cold.

“Alright!” Snufkin said, as the woodies climbed on top of rocks and tried to catch fish with their hands. “It’s time to get out of the pond!”

“But Daddy-“ most of the kids began.

He’d never get used to being called that. Not in a million years.

“We need to get back to the house so that you can get dry and have something to eat,” Snufkin explained. “It’s going to take a long time for me to make breakfast for all of you, so you need to go to sleep early to be ready in the morning.”

The kids smiled at the thought of food.

Thank goodness. In a crisis, food was the answer. Keeping them warm, fed and occupied appeared to be the solution to not having to amuse them by standing on his head. And he’d managed not to curse at all, which was a success in itself.

“Are you going to come to our show, Daddy?” one woodie with particularly messy hair asked. Snufkin went through the long list of names and was happy that he remembered that this one was named Myna.

“Of course,” Snufkin said. “Didn’t you say it is next spring?”

All the woodies nodded.

Last time he’d showed up on a rainy day and made a huge pile of pancakes and played the harmonica before bed after having them run around in the rain to wash off some of the dirt. But now they could spend some proper time outside. One day he’d teach them all how to fish. They spent enough time inside the theatre as it was.

There was a certain joy in drying all of them off with threadbare towels that were as soft as flower petals, leaving them all fluffy and giggling.  All twenty-four kids followed him like ducklings for a while as he pointed out constellations and listened to their happy chatter about starlight and theatre costumes.

Most of the woodies were wearing the straw hats he’d made for them the year before last and put a bunch of flowers behind the ribbon or even made a little flower crown and put it on top.

He complimented them on a job well done.

“Maybe one day a bird will give us a feather like yours, Daddy,” a woodie said. “But flowers are nice too. You can change them all the time.”

“That’s right,” Snufkin said. “You should always try to do what makes you happy.”

“Like walking in the soft grass?” a woodie asked. “And climbing the big trees?”

“Yes,” Snufkin said, smiling at her.

“And sleeping in the sunshine?” another asked, taking his hand.

“Your grandfather likes doing that too,” Snufkin said, aware of the fact that this was a memory to be treasured like a flower pressed between the pages of a big book.

“What about scaring the Park Keeper by hiding his hat and signs?” several of them asked as one.

“That is a family trait,” Snufkin said. “But you must remember to be careful when you are escaping from him, alright?”

Soon enough he was carrying one woodie on his shoulders and two under each arm as they dozed off. When they were back at Fillyjonk’s house, he poured the bean stew into the largest pot he could find and wrangled all the kids into their nightclothes by showing them the new clothes he’d made alongside Moominmama and promised them that they could try them out tomorrow morning if they went to sleep.

He put the new clothes in a big heap on a nearby chair as he made sure every woodie that was curled up on the large bed was covered by the quilt after they’d all shoveled down a decent amount of bean stew.

They weren’t as afraid of his stories as they had been, so he told them about how bridges creaked when you stepped on them and how to dig yourself out of jail using a can opener, because they might need that kind of knowledge later on in life.

One by one, they fell asleep.

There were loaves of fresh bread in the cupboards, along with sausages and apples and all kinds of berries. He put away the jam jars Moominmama had put in his bag and unwrapped the large cheese and the slab of butter which had begun melting. He could toast the bread over an open flame to teach the kids how to make a fire and also how you measured how much butter you needed on your toast not with how much you could fit on the knife but with your heart.

Then Snufkin headed outside with his raspberry tobacco and his pipe to smoke in silence. He listened to the trees whispering as the kids snored away. In a few hours he would have to start making breakfast, but for now he could doze with his back to the wall of the house where his children lived to be awoken by the sunrise.


End file.
